you know i don't write about every meal, right?
not everything i do all the time is a photo opportunity.
sicilian square sundays are now a thing,
and you haven't seen me shoot a shot of that new hottness-
but elvio's has that quad-corner fire, and we enjoy it more than you might suspect.
unless you suspect that enjoyment to go to eleven.
but, that's what i 'm sayin'-
i eat a lot of food, but it's not always a major production.
sometimes, it's just some real-deal super-sexxxiness on the fly.
kayla wanted red tomato pasta sauce for supper-
we still had some from our pull-apart garlic breadstick night,
and i went right ahead and upgraded it with fire roasted tomatoes,
leek, and red onion;
plus a quick adjustment of all the spices, a punch of nutritional yeast,
and a splash of water to smooth it out.
n.t.s.w.t.s. is my specialty, man.
c'mon: never the same way twice sauce.
that's what's up.
with penne pasta and seared seitan cutlets/
we had a molto italiano sunday night suppertime in mere minutes.
check the marinara-type teleport:
a simple yellow-lightbulb-lit lil bit of heaven.
well, yeah, man.
we rep the italianissimo jauns,
and that calls for all the arugula sprankles.
rules is rules.
every dinner is expert,
but not every dinner is going to use five burners and six pans.
sometimes, we're only interested in MORE food, lookin' as good as it can,
for our greedy, needy faces.
...and i can live with that.
wind can eat a bag of AIDS.
i really do hate it so SO much.
walking down the unsheltered street, with a wild, whipping whirl of supercooled air
biting me in my eyes and nose,
and flipping my hoods and hats off, so my dumb noodle ear lobes freeze in place?
making the building and enjoying of outdoor fires a real hazard?
generally dropping the ambient temperature to well below what the season calls for?
ma nature is ruining it right now.
it IS the last day.
winter ends today.
the darkness is diminishing, even if the temperatures are plummeting.
it's all really happening,
we reach relative equilibrium-
the same amount of light and dark;
the convergence of limitless ley lines and overlapping concentric echoes of energy;
the rebirth and beginning of that new-new;
the seasonal change-up that incrementally increases
all the excellent aspects of new england living.
but that's tomorrow.
just for today,
it's still very much winter's bones, and teeth, and nails, and clawing, clinging last gasping grasp
on hard styles, tough times, and all that rough stuff.
all we can do is endure it,
and enjoy the progression of this damned dark into bright bright brightness.
i'm grateful for the path we're finding here in the ever-lightening lightning-striking viking
vanguard of worthy warrior poetry and Folk Lively livin' in this woodsly goodness.
now, if only the F*ing wind would stop;
never quiet, never soft.....